


it's not in my mind (it's here at my side)

by maharieel



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Shepard in Andromeda AU, i'm such trash, purely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 21:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharieel/pseuds/maharieel
Summary: Noa Shepard's never been good at following.





	it's not in my mind (it's here at my side)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a nonsense and self-indulgent drabble about shepard being in andromeda and interacting with ryder.

It should be easy, Noa thinks, to throw herself back into playing the follower.

She had spent a while doing it, back in the early training days when alliance reps screamed in her ear all day and threw her into the showers at sunset, when she had been tossed countless times into impossible situations and expected to tough it out during her days at the villa, when Anderson had got in contact and all but forced her onto the Normandy. It was generally easy, to stand in a more experienced shadow and simply follow the motions. Child’s play.

But following wasn’t in Noa Shepard’s blood. No, she raged and destroyed and _lead_ , from the front with an upraised fist and a curse thrown to the wind. Had since she had made the streets run red in downtown Los Angeles, had since she topped her classes at every facility she was pointed at, had since the galaxy had dropped to its knees before her and begged her to save it. To follow was a worthy goal, but not for her.

It should be easy to play the follower, Noa thinks, but only if that’s all you’ve ever known.

Andromeda is not kind like the brochures preached. No galaxy has the capacity to be kind, Noa learnt some time ago, and yet at every turn the crowds sob at the disaster they willingly staggered into.  What had they expected, entrusting something like happiness with a being whose seen millennia pass it by like dust in the breeze? Galaxies are not happy or kind or forgiving, and Noa doesn’t know why anyone thought Andromeda would be any different from the Milky Way

Hope lingers in the fissures separating them, though. Ryder, golden-haired kid with enough enthusiasm and naivety for the lot of them, Noa thinks, if only everyone stopped looking at the burning trail they’ve left behind. Ryder, loud-mouthed biotic with little-to-no experience in something like leading a rag-tag bunch of imbeciles, let alone a crew or initiative. Ryder, who sobbed in a storage closet for hours after returning from the shit-storm that was habitat 7. Ryder, who Noa is now expected to stand _behind_.

It should be easy to play the follower, Noa thinks, but when has anything ever been easy?

She’s commandeered an apartment on the Nexus, the place stinking of dead plants and shitty alcohol, when said golden-haired-idiot rumbles in like a storm-cloud. She’s in the same initiative civvies from yesterday, hair a barely-contained mess and god, she looks so _young_. Twenty-three-year-old Shepard was a mess of acid burns and demons in the hospital, fed up with the universe and already prepared to throw herself out the nearest airlock.

Ryder baulks at her a moment, questions her about the alcohol before slouching down next to her. It should be awkward, Noa thinks. It’s not.

“We’re heading out,” Ryder says, the expectations of a galaxy weighing down her words. Noa knows the feeling. “Eos, apparently.”

A grunt. A swig. “So?”

“Sure could use you.”

Noa turns and looks at the kid, the _girl_ , and sees a brutal honesty in her eyes that she has to admire on principle alone. Not many people are prepared to ask for help, too preoccupied with the notion of independence. Like a galaxy gives a shit about pride.

It should be easy to play the follower, Noa thinks, but it isn’t. Not for someone like her. Not when the worlds a shit-storm of unfairness and shady morals and people inclined to put a bullet between your eyes. It’s easier to face a problem head-on then from over someone’s shoulder. Safer. Quicker. More efficient.

Ryder doesn’t beg. She sits and waits and looks at Shepard with those dark, swirling eyes and a set to her jaw. Experience aside, there’s something metal in the girl, something solid that’s kept her afloat despite everything. A galaxy may be unruly and raw and brutal, but it rewards those who can take a punch to the gut and keep walking.

“What docking bay?” Noa asks.

“The big flashy one.”

A glare. _D_ _on’t make me –_

“Four, near hydroponics.”

_Smart girl._

Noa figures it’s easy to play the follower, if only you have a good ass to protect.

**Author's Note:**

> this might develop into a full-blown au if i can be bothered.


End file.
